


Fall on Me

by Treesap



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cinnamon Rolls being Cinnamon Rolls, Clear and enthusiastic consent, F/M, Fluff, George/Hermione - Freeform, GeorgexHermione, Germione, Protect George Weasley, Songfic, there is kissing, they kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24297406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treesap/pseuds/Treesap
Summary: With a start, George realized that he’d dozed off. Hermione lay stretched across the couch beside him, and at some point over the last hour, her head had accidentally tipped over onto his shoulder. His lips quirked. The younger witch could use some sleep; she’d been working late far too often at the ministry, and George had been seeing less and less of her around the shop. Truth be told, he was worried.No one seemed to notice the dark circles under her eyes, and the way that she carried her work everywhere.Now, though, she looked comfortable. Content. Her face had smoothed out, and the perpetual line of worry between her brows was absent. She breathed deeply against him, shifting, and her arm came up to rest on his chest as she tucked herself in closer.His heartbeat quickened, although why, he couldn’t imagine.Where had Lee and Angelina gone off to?She breathed in again, and his name spilled off her lips in a sigh, “George…”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/George Weasley
Comments: 14
Kudos: 162





	Fall on Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Loves! This is a one-shot I slapped together this afternoon. The next chapter of Tenant is actually done, and will be posted later this week as well. George and Hermione aren't a popular ship, but I've been kind of obsessed with them of late. I think his quick witt and ingenuity would make a fun match for her intelligence and strength. :) 
> 
> ANYWAY. Obviously, I do not own the rights of these characters, JK Row does. As always, I'm just playing with them, hoping to bring a smile to all of your faces. 
> 
> Grab a cup of tea, maybe (if you want to) put on "Fall on Me" by A Great Big World, and enjoy. <3

The moon was high in the sky outside of the Burrow. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had long since trudged up the stairs to bed. The rest of them had stayed and played Exploding Snap a while longer before settling in around the living room to listen to the radio—one of George’s favorite past-times. At some point past midnight, Ginny and Harry had apparated back to their home at Grimmauld Place, with Ron and Hannah leaving close on their heels. The room was warm and smelt of apples, vanilla, and everything Mrs. Weasley had baked that day. The music was airy and light.

With a start, George realized that he’d dozed off. Hermione lay stretched across the couch beside him, and at some point over the last hour, her head had accidentally tipped over onto his shoulder. His lips quirked. The younger witch could use some sleep; she’d been working late far too often at the ministry, and George had been seeing less and less of her around the shop. Truth be told, he was worried.

Everyone else had someone to look after them. Ron had Hannah. Ginny and Harry had each other, and their children. Lee had Angelina. He had the shop—and he dropped by the burrow daily to chat with his Mum and dad. But Hermione was all alone in her flat and didn’t have anyone to come home to.

No one seemed to notice the dark circles under her eyes, and the way that she carried her work everywhere.

Now, though, she looked comfortable. Content. Her face had smoothed out, and the perpetual line of worry between her brows was absent. She breathed deeply against him, shifting, and her arm came up to rest on his chest as she tucked herself in closer.

His heartbeat quickened, although why, he couldn’t imagine.

Where had Lee and Angelina gone off to?

She breathed in again, and his name spilled off her lips in a sigh, “George…”

Was she awake? “H-Hermione?” he whispered, heart hammering dangerously within him. Surely she’d feel it, and it’d be strange. He hardly knew what had come over him. She didn’t answer, didn’t move, and her chest continued to rise and fall peacefully.

Whyever would she be saying his name in her sleep?

A thought came over him—one that he quickly crowded out. No, that would be ridiculous. He was George. She was Hermione. They weren’t like that. He shifted his arm around her shoulder to make better room for her beside him and tipped his head back against the couch. Almost immediately, she nestled closer.

George’s blinks grew longer, and he faded out once more.

He had dreams of twirling a girl in a blue dress around the Yule Ball. That had never happened, had it?

The next time he came to, it was to the feeling of a small hand beneath the back of his neck, fingers resting at the base of his hairline. It was lovely. He shifted, groaning at the lack of feeling in his left arm. A warm form stirred on top of him.

George’s eyes opened wide.

Outside, the sky was black, and the crickets chirped. It must’ve been past two a.m.  
  
At some point, they’d moved in his sleep. He lay on his back with his head on the armrest, and Hermione’s body lay tucked against him, her arm and leg thrown across him. Her face was resting on his chest. It felt…right. Something inside of him lurched. Mercifully, her eyes were closed. Someone had thrown a blanket over them, not bothering to wake them up, despite their position. George’s breathing was shallow, and anxiety wracked him. He thought of himself as a decent bloke—not the type to take advantage. Yet, with the way they were laying, with how unequivocally good it felt—it seemed horribly incriminating. He bit his lips together, searching for a way to extricate their bodies to leave Hermione some pride, should she wake. Surely, she hadn’t come to the Burrow to end up in his arms. He grimaced and slowly, slowly twisted, attempting to draw his left arm out from under her torso.

Hermione’s brow twisted, and she mumbled in her sleep, tightening her arms around him.

“Shite,” George whispered.

He relaxed back against the cushions and watched her. The firelight flickered over her hair, which had gone wild during the night. Slipped from its charms and style, her curls sprawled around her, and a few damp ones stuck to her neck. Without thinking, George brought his hand up to brush them back.

“Mmm,” she hummed.

What was he doing? His hand stilled against her cheek.

“That’s Heavenly,” she murmured, eyes still closed.

“Hermione?” His voice shook. Her eyes fluttered open, and her chin tilted up. She froze, color flooding her face as she met his gaze.

“Oh,” she breathed. “It’s you.” His heart hammered in his chest.

“Yeah,” George whispered. “Just me.” His voice stuck in his throat. “Sorry. You alright?”

She hadn’t moved yet. Probably out of shock or embarrassment. He searched her face, concern filling him.

“Yes,” she said, voice soft, eyes wide. “I’m good...better, actually.” George’s breath hitched. What was she on about? Her blush spread over her ears and neck. “I-I’ve missed you, George.”

His whole body warmed, from his face to his toes. Something sparked inside of him.

“Oh, really?” he heard himself say, voice low and amused. Who was this man taking over him? This was Hermione! But, at the same time, this was …Hermione. He let himself hope for a moment, just this once.

She bit her lip and nodded, something enticing twinkling in her eyes.

“Well, you could always stop by the Burrow more. I know Mum and Dad love it when you come by,” he tried, raising a brow.

“Yeah?” She grinned. He didn’t quite know the game they were playing, but he was hooked.

“Yeah.” He couldn’t look away. Not with the way she was looking at him.

“Will you be here?” she asked.

“It depends on if you’d have me, I suppose,” he said. “Be there, I mean.” Her face was inching closer to his. Oh dear.

“George?” she whispered. The fire crackled.

“Yes?” His breaths were short and fast.

“Can I ask you something?”

Heaven help him.

“Anything, Love.”

 _Thump Thump Thump_ went his heart.

“Could I kiss you now?” she stared straight into him, hope in her eyes. His breath left him. Worry creased her brows. “Or-or would that be—”

He cradled her face in his hands and drew her closer, pressing their foreheads together. Then, in the bravest moment he’d had in quite some time, he nodded.

Their mouths brushed together, feather light.

He let go of the tightness in his chest. He let go of the always-present ache.

“Hermione,” he breathed. Her breath hitched, and she tilted her chin, deepening the kiss. Suddenly, their mouths were crashing together, tangling. Something like euphoria bloomed in his chest.

His hands came up to her waist, and she pressed closer to him.

They were twisting, turning, laughing, and then he was on top of her, pressing kisses into her lips, her cheeks, her jaw. Whispering her name reverently into her skin. Her hands carded through his hair.

They continued like that for some time, whispering, quiet laughter bouncing around the room, interrupting each other with more kisses, tracing the shape of each other’s features until the sun rose.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley found them that morning, tangled up in each other’s arms. The older couple smiled and crept out of the room.


End file.
